


I, His Most Loved

by pristineungift



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Dark, Drama, F/M, Gen, Implied Relationships, Psychological Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-15
Updated: 2012-03-15
Packaged: 2017-11-02 00:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/362754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pristineungift/pseuds/pristineungift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dementors put lies in Bella's mind. Or maybe she was lying to herself all along. Prompt: Lies we tell ourselves. Voldemort/Bellatrix Lestrange</p>
            </blockquote>





	I, His Most Loved

Bella rocked, twisting her prison issue robes in her hands. If they could be called robes. More like sacks, coarse and ugly.  
  
Like her captors.  
  
“Alive, alive,” she whispered to herself, tracing a nail over the faded image of the Dark Mark on her left arm. “Returning to me, coming for me. I, his most faithful. I, his most loved.”  
  
Her beautiful Lord Voldemort, his grand vision. Not gone. Not lost.  
  
A Dementor glided to the barred window of her cell door, the rattle of its breath raising gooseflesh on the back of Bella’s neck as it sucked the small happiness of her thoughts away.  
  
Wide eyed, a sneer upon her lips, she scrabbled back, hoping to avoid it, hoping this time she would not see.  
  
But she could not stop it, the vision the Dementors invoked. Could not stop the scene she had lived a thousand times, if only in her own mind.  
A flash of green, the clatter of a wand on wood. The Dark Lord, falling, fallen.  
  
Destroyed.  
  
He looked much smaller with the light gone from his eyes. Seemed much lighter when the sinewy strength left his frame.  
  
Shaking herself, Bella screamed, a mad wail, a vehement denial. She turned back to her faded Dark Mark, tracing it once more with untrimmed nails that reddened the flesh around the brand.  
  
His brand. His Mark.  
  
“Alive, alive,” she hissed against the visions the Dementors brought. “Coming for me. Our savior. Our lord. _My_ lord."  
  
Back and forth she rocked, moving away from the door and the Dementors that waited beyond it.  
  
“Coming for me. To save me. _To save us all_. He loves me best,” she told the Mark. “He loves me best.”  
  
The Dementor at the door turned from her, the movement catching her eye. Bella looked up, watching it go.  
  
“He loves me.”  
  
The walls of her cell absorbed the sound of her hissed declaration.  
  
Just as they always did.  
  
  



End file.
